For the Potions Master's Amusement

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Chapter 74: Salience

She had slept for only a short time when she woke to find him suckling her breast. He sucked firmly, pulling the full areola into his mouth, his teeth lightly biting, his tongue flicking lazily against her nipple. She murmured and placed a hand on his head, and he tugged her closer, lifting his head to give the same treatment to the neglected breast. She stroked his increasingly oily hair, reflecting that it had been many hours since they had first laid eyes on one another at the christening; no doubt her hair was the worse for wear, as well.

Not surprisingly, the licking and sucking slowly aroused her ardour again, and soon, she was angling her body towards him, seeking contact for her aching quim. He seemed to know exactly what she needed, shifting again and moving over her, insinuating a knee against her labia, and she rubbed herself against it, almost purring in pleasure. She had no idea how much time passed as Severus Snape silently paid thorough court to her breasts, but she was almost breathless with want when he rolled away from her, onto his feet.

'Bring your hot little cunt to the bath,' he said, and she did not hesitate to take his hand and follow him into the bathroom.

He lit but one candle in the room. 'Turn on the tap,' he instructed, nodding toward the old-fashioned claw-footed tub. 'Then put your hands on the edge of the tub and spread your legs.'

Her centre throbbed in response to his command, and she bent willingly over the steaming bathwater, feeling the floor beneath her elevate as if she stood upon a low box before he placed his hands at her hips and pushed his cock into her cunt from behind.

He fucked her slowly, for it was an awkward position, but she was hot for him, unbearably aroused by the caresses he had given her in the bed. She very much wanted to come again, and she pushed back as he thrust into her, wanting to feel the swing of his heavy scrotum slapping against her swollen labia.

'Filthy girl,' he said caressingly. 'Get into the water, and perhaps some of the filth will come off as you wash me.'

But washing was not the first order of business, for he reclined against the sloping back of the huge old bathtub and pulled her down onto his cock. She rode him eagerly, leaning forward to brace her arms on either side of his head, giving him clear opportunity to nuzzle and nip at her breasts, even as he gave the occasional teasing rub to her clitoris.

'What do you want, little slut?' he asked her, resting his head back, his eyes slumberous with desire as he watched her.

'I want to come,' she told him, hearing the plea in her voice and not caring, for she knew he would like it.

'Beg,' he said, crossing his arms behind his head as if he wanted nothing more than to watch her take her pleasure on his cock.

'Please,' she said promptly, straightening up and sliding her hands up her torso to cup her breasts. His lip curled in a snarl of lascivious approval, and she repeated the gesture for him. 'Please make me come again,' she said breathlessly. 'I'll be good for you, I promise.'

He smiled unpleasantly. 'You'll be good whether I give you another orgasm or not, Hermione,' he said. 'I'll make sure of it—never doubt.'

But instead of abashing her, this promise excited her more, and her lips parted as she lowered herself again on his erection, twisting her hips.

'Yes, M—' She stopped herself just in time, before uttering that title she no longer had the right to speak, but if he noticed, he gave no sign.

'Very well, nasty little slut,' he said, reaching out to rub her clitoris. 'If you can bring yourself off riding my cock, let me see you do it.'

Hermione gasped as he fingered her, and she came in a matter of seconds, her cries echoing around the tiles of the small room.

'I'd forgotten what a noisy girl you can be,' he said, watching her with satisfied eyes. 'Now, we'll wash—and then you'll show me how long you can endure me eating your cunt without coming, won't you?'

As it turned out, she didn't endure it very well, at all.

She was still quivering from her unsanctioned orgasm when he snapped, 'Arms above your head!'

Hermione swallowed and reached toward the headboard, unsurprised to feel the wrist restraints, but when he took her ankles and straightened her legs, pushing them up and back, she was a bit alarmed.

'What are you—'she began.

'Silence!' he snapped. 'You knew there would be consequences for disobedience.'

So she closed her lips tightly together as he manually applied leather cuffs to her ankles and secured them with bindings she could not see, her wrists and ankles nearly parallel.

'It's too bad you've already been spanked,' he said meditatively, kneeling at her arse and stroking her bum cheeks. 'This is a perfect position for a bit of bottom and fanny flogging.' Now he looked into her worried face, between her suspended legs, and he stroked his erection, firming it. 'But we won't let your position go to waste.'

Hermione fought her alarm. She was short of breath from having her ankles about her ears—how could one hope to catch a decent breath with her lungs all scrunched up?—but she knew part of her panic was psychological in nature, rather than physical, and she schooled herself to breathe slowly.

Then he placed himself at her entrance and pushed inside with a groan of carnal gratification. Taking hold of her upper thighs, he proceeded to fuck her hard, his eyes glittering in the candlelight as he watched her face and her bouncing breasts, occasionally looking down to watch his cock pumping in and out of her slick hole. Hermione did not derive a great deal of pleasure from the act, situated as she was, and he made no effort to stimulate her—but she was not dismayed. It was punishment for coming without permission, and it was what one accepted if one chose to submit to the sexual domination of Severus Snape.

Thankfully, it did not take him long to climax, and he pulled his cock out and ejaculated on her lower abdomen, smugly watching the pulsing fluid splat on her belly. Then he sat back on his heels to catch his breath.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from asking to be untied, and it seemed to her that he took longer than he needed, as if he wanted to force her to ask. But at last, he seemed satisfied, and he stood to release the bindings from her ankles, slowly lowering her legs to the bed and lightly massaging the muscles before he released her wrists.

She closed her eyes, feeling suddenly very sleepy, and he seemed to agree, for he nudged her. 'Budge up,' he said, sliding in behind her and pulling the covers over them. 'We'll sleep for a bit before I decide how I want to fuck you again.'

And as he spooned against her back, Hermione slept.


In her dream, she floated in deliciously warm water, weightless and content. The water rippled and flowed around her, and a particularly delightful current pulsed between her thighs, tickling her clitoris like the tongue of a lover. She squirmed and luxuriated, and as she became more stimulated, she tried to press against it, with surprising success.

Her eyes fluttered open and she saw that she was in the middle of a bed covered in dark green, sprawled nearly on her stomach, with someone licking her clitoris from behind. She breathed deeply and wriggled against the delightful tongue, only to have it abandon her.

She sighed her protest, then he was at her back again, rolling her into position, her back to his chest, before sliding his cock home into her cunt. Hermione murmured, and the professor kissed her shoulder, licked, then bit, sucking hard, bruising her skin even as his fingers tickled and rubbed her nub, the pain/pleasure combination slipping her neatly into subspace. Time slowed as he rocked against her back, moving in and out of her languorously, fingers slick with the juices of her cunt sliding up her torso to pinch and pull at her nipples. She rocked with him, transported, wishing their congress could go on and on—if only all of life could be her in Severus Snape's bed, his hardness penetrating her softness, their mutual pleasure completing the circuit of murmurs and sighs, tenderness and pleasure they now shared.

'You're such a little fuck slut, aren't you, Hermione?' he murmured into her hair, the tip of his tongue then lightly flicking inside her ear.

'Yes, I am,' she agreed, pressing her bum back, taking him further inside of her and groaning with her own effort.

'You need this from me,' he informed her, his tweaking, rubbing hand now stroking the soft expanse of skin along the roundness of her hip, dipping down to follow the contour of her waist. 'Say it.'

She squeezed her internal muscles, earning a guttural groan from him as her vagina massaged his penis. 'I need you to fuck me and spank me and finger me and lick me and suck me—'

His teeth closed firmly on her earlobe as he stroked fingers into her slit, down to where their bodies joined and back up her swollen inner lips to rub firm, knowing circles on her clitoris. He shifted up and forward, gaining more momentum, moving with more purpose. 'Oh fuck, you Siren, I'm going to come,' he grated, jerking his hips against her forcefully, and he ground his entire palm against her wet, swollen cunt. 'Come for me now, Hermione!'

And with a shudder, she obeyed his command, the waves of pleasure spreading to encompass him, as well, for he gripped her hip and thrust twice, hard, his fingers bruising, and cried out. She felt him subside onto the pillow at her side, and she rolled to face him, moving in to kiss his mouth. He dragged her tightly against him with one long leg hooked over her thighs, and they lay thus together, kissing and caressing one another, until they dozed again.


Hermione awoke after dawn and slipped out of bed, padding into the bathroom and relieving herself. She stepped to the sink to wash her hands and saw her reflection, her hair impossible, her face pale, three purple love bites visible above her collarbone. Her bum was sore from the severe spanking it had received, her vaginal tissues were tender from the unaccustomed fucking, and her shoulders and hips were sore from the bondage.

Inside, she felt washed clean, serene, and content. She felt as if she could easily face and conquer any person or situation. Giving her reflection a cocky grin, she turned and went into the bedroom, finding and putting on her bra, her blouse, and her skirt. Her under things, which Severus had plucked from the floor of Rafe's study, were nowhere to be seen, so she went into the sitting room, where he had dropped his coat upon a chair. There, in his pockets, she found both her knickers and her tights. The knickers she left crumpled on the chair cushion, but she wriggled into the tights, glad of the bit of covering, for the autumn morning was chilly.

That done, her eyes were drawn to the shelf of books against the wall by the door, and she went to investigate its contents. She was intrigued to find the shelves stocked with Muggle paperbacks, from Agatha Christie to Jane Austen to Ian Fleming to Charles Dickens. She smiled softly, running a fingertip along the spines of the books, then noticed a writing desk tucked into a corner. Frowning, she crossed the floor to the desk and picked up the book lying on top.

'Good morning,' Severus said from the doorway, and Hermione turned, a frown between her brows.

'Why do you have my books on your desk?' she asked, picking up the second so that she held a book in each hand. 'I packed these in case I needed something to read, but I couldn't find them last night, so I went down to Rafe's study.'

The Potions master lounged against the doorjamb, hair rumpled from the bed, wearing nothing but a black dressing gown, his long, narrow feet bare upon the cold floor. He crossed his arms over his chest and quirked an eyebrow at her. 'How do you imagine your books came to be in my room?' he asked her.

Hermione sucked in an indignant breath, feeling the stuporous post-coital fog blowing away, revealing what lay beneath. 'I can't begin to imagine it, Severus,' she snapped. 'Why don't you tell me?'

He smirked, advancing into the room. He stopped in front of her and took one of the books from her hand. 'Information Technology Management,' he read. He looked into her face. 'Rather dull stuff for pleasure reading,' he drawled.

She snatched the book angrily from his hand. 'How did you get it?' she demanded.

He reached to smooth a stray strand of hair from her forehead, but she pulled away from him. He frowned. 'I told Caffey, the house-elf, that you had brought my books back after borrowing them and asked her to fetch them from your bag.'

'You tricked me!' she cried, outraged.

The ghost of a smile touched his lips. 'It was rather clever of me, wasn't it?' he said.

He was laughing at her! 'You haven't learned a thing!' she said. 'You think you can manipulate me any way you wish, and I'll just accept it!'

The first hint of wariness touched his eyes. 'Hermione,' he said, his tone persuasive, 'you were behaving like a skittish filly—I simply helped you along. We needed to have our talk, and it turned out well, did it not?' He took the books from her hands, returning them to the desk, then cupping her shoulders in his large, warm hands. 'You had no objections last night.'

Hermione began to jerk away, but his hands tightened, preventing her.

'This isn't about last night!' she cried. 'This is about you being dishonest with me!'

He pulled her against him, wrapping up her struggling form and pressing his cheek to the top of her head. 'I simply wished to see you alone,' he said. 'I had no wish to trick you or manipulate you.'

A sick feeling of disappointment bloomed in Hermione's mid-section, and she felt almost nauseated with regret. She stood quietly until he loosened his hold and looked down into her face.

'Would you care to return to Hogwarts with me—to spend Sunday in my rooms?'

Hermione stepped back, out of his reach, slowly shaking her head. 'No,' she said. 'No, Severus—how can I trust you when you think you can do whatever you like to get what you want?'

His cheeks flushed a dull red. 'Don't you think you're blowing things out of proportion?' he snapped. 'You're behaving as if you were violated in some way!'

Hermione closed her eyes and shakily drew breath. The night had been exciting, the domination breathtaking, the sex mind-blowing—but his heedless machinations soured it for her. Suddenly, she was desolate and exhausted; all she wanted was her own tiny flat, a cup of tea, and a book to make her forget it all … although her experience had taught her that forgetting was much harder than it ought to be.

'If you don't understand, I can't explain it to you,' she said quietly.

He stared down at her, his confusion evident in his puckered brow. 'You still love me!' he blurted, as if the words were torn from him against his will. 'I've been in your mind—I know you do!'

Hermione sighed. 'Of course I love you,' she said sadly, 'just as you love me—but that doesn't matter, don't you see?'

He stared at her, his lips pressed together in a thin, uncompromising line. 'This is a mistake,' he said, his voice ragged.

Hermione picked up her books and turned from him, walking out the door without another word.


Hermione dressed quickly after her shower, plaiting her hair and tying her trainers before picking up her bag and going downstairs. She found t and Rafe at breakfast, with a rather haggard looking Professor Snape. Hermione's heart twisted in her chest as she looked at him, seeing the waxen skin and haunted eyes.

'What's this?' t said, pausing in the act of refilling Rafe's teacup. 'You aren't leaving so soon, surely?'

Severus' face turned and his eyes locked with hers. She felt as if all the breath had been knocked from her.

'I need to get back,' Hermione lied, trying and failing to look away from him.

Taffy stood and embraced Hermione. 'But not before you eat,' she coaxed, trying to lead Hermione to the table.

'You needn't go,' Severus said quietly. 'I'll leave.'

Rafe stood abruptly. 'Sev, I'd like a word in the study, if you please.'

The two wizards left the dining room, and Hermione subsided weakly into a chair.

'What happened?' t whispered, but Hermione simply shook her head.

Taffy watched Hermione, seemingly exasperated. It was clear that she wanted to scold, but as she opened her mouth to being, the sound of raised voices reached them from the study.

'They didn't get the door closed,' Hermione said dully, and t hushed her.

'… without a play contract?' Rafe shouted. 'What the hell were you thinking, Sev?'

Taffy reached for Hermione's hand.

'… didn't think it was necessary,' the professor was saying, his voice tight. 'She asked me to spank her—asked me to—'

'I don't care if she asked you to bind her and clamp her and wax her and flog her!' Rafe snapped impatiently. 'You're making the mistakes I would expect of a Dom in his first year of D/s, not his twentieth!'

Taffy squeezed the hand she held, and Hermione stared down at the tablecloth, tears which had not bothered her in the apartment above the stable now stinging her eyes.

'… and bugger off!' the professor shouted.

'Not when it happens in my house!' Rafe shouted back. 'Under my roof—under my protection—Christ, Sev, I don't know what's wrong with you.'

Hot tears fell onto the clasped hands of the two submissives.

'I've never heard them row like this,' t whispered, sounding almost frightened as the voices in the next room droned on, the words indistinguishable.

'… and what the fuck did you do to my sofa?' Rafe demanded angrily. 'Now it's not even long enough for me to stretch out and have a kip!'

Hermione swallowed past the painful lump in her throat and managed a pathetic smile. 'I wondered why he kept getting closer to me,' she whispered. 'He must have been making the sofa shorter.'

Resolutely, she stood and put the bag over her shoulder. 'I'm sorry, t,' she said. 'I'll stay longer, next time, I promise.' She bent to kiss her friend's cheek. 'Kiss Daisy for me, won't you?'

Taffy stood and wrapped an arm about Hermione's waist, and the two girls went down the hallway towards the front door, passing silently by the study, although Hermione glanced in to see Severus Transfiguring Rafe's sofa back to its proper length.

'You'll come back soon?' t asked at the door.

Before Hermione could answer, a strained voice spoke her name.

'Hermione.'

She turned, the grey, misty morning light silhouetting her from the open doorway, and looked at Severus Snape, who stood outside of the study, his face drawn.

'Yes?' she said.

'I won't seek you out again,' he said, his chin lifting just a fraction, his pride straightening his spine.

'That's probably for the best,' Hermione replied, and turning from him, she stepped into the mist and Disapparated.